


Telling Sherlock

by maxxxdegree



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Drunk John, Drunk Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, John Struggling, Love Confessions, M/M, UST, Unilock, Unrequited Sexual Tension, kinda slow burn, requited sexual tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23170537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxxxdegree/pseuds/maxxxdegree
Summary: “Nice to see him out, though,” Greg said, eyeing John with a mischievous smile. “So…”John noticed Molly also giving him a smirk. “So… what?”“Is it happening tonight?” Molly asked.“What—” Sarah’s eyes widened and she clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh my gooood! John! I knew it! I bloody knew it! You—”“Shhhh!” John flapped a hand towards Sarah because he had spotted Sherlock on his way back. “For Christ’s sake, everybody act normal.”
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

“Sherlock!” John bounded up the stairs two at a time, his backpack slung over a shoulder and his arms full of groceries. “Sherlock! Where are you? You’ll never guess what I just—,” John’s thought processes screeched to a halt as he took in the scene in front of him.

Sherlock was lying supine on the couch, which, on its own, wasn’t really remarkable, except…

“Jesus Christ, Sherlock! Put your pants on!” John exclaimed.

It was only then that John realized that his best friend’s eyes were closed and he was snoring lightly. On the couch. Wearing absolutely nothing.

John’s eyes, which were trying to avoid looking, glanced down quickly at the sleeping man. _Bloody hell._ He couldn’t fathom any reason why Sherlock would be sleeping on their couch naked. John put the groceries and his backpack down on the floor and crept closer towards Sherlock.

As he got to sniffing distance, his questions were answered.

Sherlock was drunk.

John threw a pillow over Sherlock’s crotch area and moved even closer, totally dumbfounded. Why was his flatmate drunk? Did something happen? Was this for a case?

Still shocked, John grabbed a blanket from Sherlock’s room and put it over his dozing friend. Tucking the top end underneath Sherlock’s chin, John couldn’t help but smooth away the dark curls on Sherlock’s forehead. John always thought Sherlock looked incredibly vulnerable when he slept. Everybody does, he supposed. There was just something about sleep that made his rude manic flat mate seem more childlike when in this state. John felt his lips tug up into a soft smile when Sherlock started to stir.

_Shit._

John pulled his hand away as if scorched and stood up too quickly. The back of his left leg smacked the coffee table with a _thwap_ and he bit back a curse at the pain. Too late. Sherlock’s eyes were blinking up at John in confusion.

“J-John?” Sherlock said, rubbing his forehead.

“Hey! Yeah… Just got home. Saw you sleeping and I thought you might be cold so I got you your blanket…” John was aware he was rambling as he backed away towards the kitchen.

“Ugh,” Sherlock sat up and rubbed his forehead. “I was inebriated, John. A cuppa would be wonderful if you’re making one.”

In the kitchen, John grunted in response as he put the kettle on. “Why were you drinking? It’s four o’clock in the afternoon.” Not that Sherlock usually drank at all. It was John who was always coming home drunk after a celebratory rugby match or after a long exam week.

“It was for a case,” Sherlock said. John heard him shuffle around the living room and walk towards the kitchen.

“Care to elaborate?” John said, feeling Sherlock enter the kitchen. As he turned around, he realized that Sherlock might still be naked and felt a twinge of disappointment when he saw him dressed.

“Long story. Tedious. Just a case of missing exam papers. I had to seduce the secretary,” Sherlock accepted the tea John offered him and took a sip.

“What? You tried to seduce somebody?” John tried to smother a grin as he imagined what that would have been like. His obviously asexual flat mate turned down anybody and everybody who hit on him, deducing them to an inch of their lives and making them run screaming out the door.

Sherlock shrugged, uninterested in answering the question. “Anyway, the exam papers were recovered after I became inebriated–another long story–and were surrendered to the proper authorities. Case closed.”

“Good,” John said, still confused as to the events but deciding not to pester Sherlock anymore. “Oh, hey, I ran into Molly at the supermarket and guess what? She’s _moving._ Her mom got a job in the States and she decided to go with her. She didn’t have to, of course, you know how nice her mom is, but Molly figured it would be good for her, you know. So… she’s throwing a party tonight at her place. You wanna go?”

“Okay.”

John’s jaw dropped. He always _always_ invited Sherlock to parties and he always _always_ said no. He always said it was a waste of time and he had better things to do. “Really?”

“Well, if you don’t want me to then you shouldn’t have asked me, John,” Sherlock said.

“No. No, of course I want you to. It’s just that you never say yes,” John said, still gobsmacked. First the drinking and the birthday suit, now this. Something was definitely up.

“I’m going to get a bit of sleep first. What time are we leaving?”

“Err—around eight? That alright with you?”

“I’ll be ready at eight.” Sherlock swept out of the room and into the hallway, looking over his shoulder. “Ta for the tea.”

John stared at his best friend’s retreating back, wondering what the hell just happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the year, they were living together at 221B Baker Street; Sherlock still indifferent to other people except John, and John still… well, bisexual.

They had been best friends since the beginning of uni, meeting in a psychology class where Sherlock deduced John’s background (middle class family, military father, alcoholic mother) and sexual orientation (bisexual). John had been so impressed he invited Sherlock out for coffee. They had spent the whole afternoon together and John, in turn, had deduced Sherlock’s lack of friends and indifference to social norms.

At the end of the year, they were living together at 221B Baker Street; Sherlock still indifferent to other people except John, and John still… well, bisexual.

It’s not that John never thought about it. He just never let himself dwell on the attraction he felt towards his mad flat mate. It had crept up on him, this feeling of fondness, then fascination, then want. He would try to date and once or twice, they even lasted a few weeks, but he would end up comparing them to Sherlock and wasn’t that just the saddest thing in the world?

Molly and Greg knew. The three of them had been out at the pub one Friday night and John had been particularly frustrated with Sherlock that day (an “important” experiment had resulted in bits of spleen all over the kitchen) and he had drunk more than his usual share of alcohol.

John had noticed his two friends glancing at each other more than once and had finally asked, “What?”

Molly had looked at Greg and he’d nodded. “Don’t take this the wrong way, John, but…” Another look at Greg.

“We don’t want to pry or anything, mate, it’s just you’ve not exactly been in the best of moods lately. Is there anything you want to get off your chest?” Greg had said.

Molly had gently laid a hand on John’s arm and had said softly, “You know you can trust us, right?”

Even with the amount of alcohol in his system, he could see genuine concern in both their eyes. He had huffed out a self-deprecating laugh. “Have I been that obvious?”

Molly had laughed. “Kind of.”

“Well, then. Yeah… yeah,” John had taken another gulp from his pint. “Fuck. If it’s so bloody obvious then he must know already.”

Greg had snorted. “He may be a genius, mate, but you know how stupid he is when it comes to this.”

John had punched him on the arm. “Don’t call him stupid!”

Molly and Greg had exchanged another look, identical smirks on their faces.

“Defending his honor, huh?” Molly had said.

“I hate myself,” John had groaned. “How do I do this? Should I just move out?”

“Listen, John, you have to tell him. If things go south, at least you have no regrets. I mean, he’s never been that way to anyone else. He likes you. I don’t know how deep down it goes but there’s no harm in trying, right?” Molly had said.

“But there is. Harm. In trying,” John had tried to piece the words together through his drunken state. “I don’t want to lose him. He’s my best friend.”

“If he really is your best friend, then this won’t change anything,” Greg had reassured him. “You’ll still be friends after.”

“But what if? What if our friendship doesn’t survive it?”

“It will,” Molly had said firmly. “You’ll make sure it does.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Maybe you should slow down, Sherlock.”
> 
> “I’m fine,” Sherlock muttered, moving towards the kitchen once more.

“Sherlock!” John called. “You ready?”

“Give me a few more minutes, John,” Sherlock’s deep timbre sounded from his room.

John went to the bathroom to check his reflection. He had decided earlier on (when Sherlock said yes to the party) that tonight was going to be _the_ night. He was going to tell Sherlock how he felt. His reflection looked ready. He was wearing a button down shirt the same color as his eyes, and his nice pair of jeans, the one that Molly always said made his ass look “like it wants to be grabbed”. 

In the spirit of optimism, when he showered, he had trimmed his pubes and made sure everything was clean. Not that he was being presumptuous, of course. Still, no harm in being ready. He also put on his most expensive cologne, the one he only used for special occasions. 

“I’m ready to go,” Sherlock’s voice came from the sitting room.

When he saw Sherlock, his brain rapidly went to overdrive and it took all of his self-control not to let his mouth drop. _What the hell?_ Sherlock was wearing a new aubergine shirt (tight tight tight) and trousers that made _his_ ass look like it wanted to be grabbed. And manhandled. And bitten. And li—

“Uhhh… You look nice. New shirt?” John finally said.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows and nodded, looking at John strangely. “You ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

The cab ride to Molly’s party was silent. John wasn’t really in the mood to talk. He was busy going through his game plan for tonight. First, he needed to make sure he subtly crossed the line between their too-close-for-comfort friendship to flirting to get a feel of Sherlock’s initial reaction. Second, if all goes well and Sherlock seemed to be… reciprocating (dear god reciprocate), he would stay by his side the whole evening. John planned on paying closer attention to Sherlock (more so than usual) – getting him his drinks, making sure he doesn’t get bored – and asking him to go home early. Whatever happened next John avoided on dwelling upon. It was too early to be celebrefucking, even in his own imagination.

“We’re here,” Sherlock interrupted his thoughts, glancing at John while handing the driver a couple of bills.

John grinned at Sherlock. “Our first party together! Wonder why it took so long?” His voice was full of sarcasm as he raised an eyebrow.

“Parties are boring, John. You know how annoying it is to have a decent conversation with somebody who’s inebriated?”

John laughed. “You talk to _me_ when I’m drunk! You even make me coffee!”

Sherlock mumbled something John didn’t catch and walked ahead towards the direction of Molly’s flat.

The flat that Molly shared with two other people was small but cozy. As they approached the door, they could hear the thumping of the bass from the music that was playing. It was muffled through the closed door but immediately became deafening when the door opened to let out a couple giggling into the hallway.

They went in and spotted Molly by the sofa, holding a drink in her hand and talking to Greg and Sarah. Her eyes lit up when she saw John, who was walking ahead of Sherlock, and they bulged out of her head when she spotted Sherlock. 

“Sherlock! You made it!” Molly galloped (really, there was no other word for it) towards them and gave Sherlock a big hug. “I can’t believe it! How did you do it, John?”

“I just used a little Watson charm,” John joked, wiggling his eyebrows at Sherlock.

“Like that would work on me,” Sherlock fired back, rolling his eyes.

John grinned. “You can’t resist me. Admit it!”

The tips of Sherlock’s ears turned pink but his eyes were steady as he met John’s. “I’m going to get a drink,” Sherlock said. He walked away towards the kitchen.

“So how _did_ you do it?” Sarah asked, as John and Molly joined them.

John shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. He just up and agreed. You know him. He’s like a cat. He’d never let anybody make him do what he didn’t want to do.”

“Nice to see him out, though,” Greg said, eyeing John with a mischievous smile. “So…”

John noticed Molly also giving him a smirk. “So… what?”

“Is it happening tonight?” Molly asked.

“What—” Sarah’s eyes widened and she clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh my gooood! John! I knew it! I bloody knew it! You—”

“Shhhh!” John flapped a hand towards Sarah because he had spotted Sherlock on his way back. “For Christ’s sake, everybody act normal.”

As if on cue, all of them pretend laughed. They looked at each other and laughed harder, this time genuinely tickled at what just happened.

“What did I miss?” Sherlock asked, holding out a drink for John to take.

John’s stomach warmed at the thought that Sherlock actually remembered to get him a drink. He took it and swallowed a large mouthful before his face could betray any of flatmate-related thoughts. He coughed as the alcohol burned a hole in his chest. “Was that—was that straight-up vodka?!”

“Yes,” Sherlock answered stoically. “I figured the sooner we get inebriated, the sooner we can go home.” He took a large gulp of his own drink.

Molly rolled her eyes. “Thank you _so_ much for coming, then. Oh, hey, there’s Jen! We need to talk to her about that… thing…” She herded both Greg and Sarah towards said friend.

John made a mental note to strangle Molly later but Sherlock didn’t seem to notice. He was sipping his drink and making a face every time he had to swallow, his feet actually thumping to the beat of the music.

“Did you eat anything all day?” John asked.

Sherlock made a noncommittal noise and drained the cup, “I’m gonna get more. What do you want?”

“I haven’t even finished this,” John said, gesturing to his own half-full cup of pure vodka. _Jesus Christ. You’d think he wanted to get drunk twice in one day._ But maybe he did. You never knew with Sherlock. That’s one of the things that made him so—

“Maybe you should slow down, Sherlock.”

“I’m fine,” Sherlock muttered, moving towards the kitchen once more.

John couldn’t help but notice his friend’s figure – tall and lean and ohsodelicious – as he walked away from him. His trousers hugged his slim hips and his ass made sure it made itself known to everyone who looked. John didn’t know how to play it now. It was obvious that Sherlock was going to be plastered before the night was over, making it impossible for John to make his move and be taken seriously or even be remembered the next day. He was mulling this over when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“Jeanette!”

His ex-girlfriend gave him a one-handed hug which he returned as they tried not to spill their drinks on each other. “How are you, John?”

“Not bad. Struggling through biochemistry. The usual,” he shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “You?”

“Same! I was thinking maybe we can… struggle together? And we both have Wednesday nights free so…” She was giving him a flirty smile as she toyed with her cup.

_ Hmm… Oh. Oh!  _ John’s brain scrambled to think of an excuse. “Yeah, sure! Uhh… I could ask Molly or Sherlock to help us. They both took the class last semester.” 

A year ago, he would’ve been down for all _that,_ the flirting and the dating and casual sex, sometimes even romance. Ever since Sherlock came along, though, John realized that he would much rather spend time with his crazy flat mate than… well, anyone else, really.

“I guess that would work. But I was actually thinking more along the lines of—”

“Sexual intercourse interspersed with random study sessions?” Sherlock’s voice interrupted them flatly.

They both whirled around to see Sherlock, looking at both of them with disdain.

“Never mind, “Jeanette mumbled, “See you around, John. Nice seeing you, Sherlock.” She hurried away towards her friends on the other side of the room.

John turned to Sherlock, torn between wanting to admonish him for his rudeness and wanting to snog him senseless right then and there.

Sherlock, misinterpreting the look on John’s face, rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding the least bit sorry. “Go on, then. Have at it.” He gestured towards Jeanette’s direction with his cup, now filled with something dark amber.

“Too late now. Besides, who’s going to take you home when you pass out in—oh, I dunno—fifteen minutes?” He grabbed Sherlock’s wrist to take a closer look at the drink. “What is this, anyway?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Sherlock replied, pulling his hand back and taking a swig then grimacing, “And I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

“Sure you can.”

“I can!” Sherlock sounded like a petulant child. “And I will! See you at home.” He flounced off into the direction of one of the bedrooms where it seemed like a totally different party was starting.

John sighed and followed him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “C’mon, John,” she murmured. “I know you’re not dating anybody… And I miss you…” She started to kiss his neck.

Just as John had suspected, he wasn’t going to be able to do it tonight. Sherlock had gone off and gotten spectacularly drunk at the party. He didn’t even know there were actual stations with different types of people with different kinds of alcohol. He just knew that tonight was _not_ going to be _the night._

John watched Sherlock from across the room as he played beer pong on the dining room table with some guys from the rugby team. Beer pong! With the rugby lads! If he weren’t slightly drunk himself, he would’ve screamed in frustration. A year ago, Sherlock would never have come to the party, let alone interact with anybody except for John, Molly, and a handful of other people Sherlock deemed necessary to interact with. And now… he was playing _beer pong._ With the guys from _his_ rugby team. He was truly flabbergasted.

Not that he wasn’t pleased. He was happy that Sherlock seemed to be enjoying himself. It was just that… John sighed. _Don’t be selfish. You’re the one who’s been trying to get him to go out more. Stop sulking. You have loads of other opportunities to tell him. You_ live _with him, for Christ’s sake!_

He steeled his resolve and decided to try to enjoy himself. He got up from the sofa and wandered to the kitchen. He was poking through liquor bottles and was deciding between a rum and Coke or a beer when Jeanette came in.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said. Her eye makeup was a bit smudged and her eyes had that glassy look that came from having too much to drink.

“Oh, hi,” he said. “Want some?” He held up the rum bottle.

“I definitely want some,” she said coyly, coming up to his side and taking the rum bottle from him. She poured them each a generous portion and topped it off with some Coke. “Cheers!”

They touched their plastic cups together and pretended to clink them. John laughed and took a drink. “Hey, sorry about earlier. You know how Sherlock is.”

Jeanette nodded. “I do.” She chewed on her cup thoughtfully while looking at John. “But hey, if you need a break from Sherlock, we can hang out sometime.”

“Oh, for sure,” John answered.

“What about now? You’re not busy now, right?”

“Oh… Uh… Yeah. Why not?”

Jeanette grabbed his arm and led him towards Molly’s room. It was empty, its occupants migrating to the bedroom next to it to play a drinking game that could be heard all over the flat.

She shut the door and John was dragged to the bed where she pushed him to sitting and promptly sat next to him, inching towards him until their thighs touched. He cleared his throat and shifted a bit, trying to put some space between them.

“So…” Jeanette smiled at him and licked her lips. “What’s new with you?”

“Err— pretty good, I guess. Same old. School, rugby. Nothing new, really. You?”

She moved even closer and put her hand on John’s knee. “I’m doing okay. I miss hanging out with you.”

John, tipsy and confused, stared at the fingers tracing patterns on his knee and moving their way upwards. “Jeanette, listen—” He looked up to see her face inches away from his.

“C’mon, John,” she murmured. “I know you’re not dating anybody… And I miss you…” She started to kiss his neck.

For a second, he got caught up in the sensation of lips on his skin and his hand came up to cradle her head while she continued nuzzling his neck. He was just realizing where he was and who he was with ( _not Sherlock_ ) when the door opened with a bang.

They jumped apart and Jeanette looked up in annoyance at the doorway behind John. “This room is occu—,” she started to say when her eyes went wide and John looked over his shoulder to find Molly and Greg sandwiching a passed out Sherlock between them, their arms around him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You smell nice.” Sherlock started sniffing John’s neck and John almost dropped the keys.

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ ,” said Molly sardonically. “Did I interrupt your little meeting in _my_ apartment? In _my_ bedroom?”

Jeanette mumbled a quick apology and left, leaving John behind still sitting on the bed.

“Are you just going to sit there or are you gonna help us?” Greg growled as they started half-lifting half-dragging Sherlock towards the bed.

John leapt to his feet and took over for Molly. “What happened?”

Molly pulled back the covers as they laid him out on the bed. Greg made an annoyed sound and said, “The wanker tried to keep up with the rugby lads, that’s what. And you know how they are.”

John sighed. He started taking Sherlock’s shoes off while Molly tried to position Sherlock comfortably.

“I’m gonna get him some water,” Greg said.

Greg had just closed the door when Molly said, “Sorry your plans were ruined.” She smiled at him sympathetically as she settled on the floor, back against the side of the bed.

He plopped down beside her and shrugged. “I knew it the moment he started drinking. So no surprise, really. Do you know he was drunk just this afternoon?”

“What?”

“Yeah, he said he had a case,” said John.

“Huh,” Molly said, frowning. “It’s a wonder he lasted as long as he did.”

“He’s not much of a drinker,” John agreed, feeling exhausted all of a sudden.

Greg came back with a glass of water and some aspirin. He placed them on the bedside table and sat next to John. All three of them were silent for a while.

“No go, huh?” Greg broke the quiet.

John shook his head. As if on cue, all three of them turned their heads to look at Sherlock.

“I’ve never seen him drunk,” Greg mused. “It was… weird.”

“What was he doing?” John asked as they all tried to settle comfortably in their spots.

Greg and Molly looked at each other, amused smiles on their faces.

“Well, for starters, he was loud,” Molly said and Greg nodded. “I don’t know if you saw but he was playing beer pong with the lads—”

“I did!” John exclaimed, “Weird as fuck.”

“—and he started arguing with them.” Molly said.

John grimaced, knowing how that would turn out.

“No, no,” Greg chimed in. “He was arguing with them but he wasn’t being… Sherlock. You know? I think he was trying to be one of them, like talking about sports and girls and whatnot.”

John’s brows furrowed and he felt a twisting deep in his gut. “Girls? What about girls?”

“Like, who was hot, who had nice boobs, stuff like that,” Greg answered. “It was really strange, mate.”

Molly was trying to contain her laughter, not wanting to wake Sherlock up. “Yeah, we could both hear him from across the room.”

John turned to look at Sherlock again. He was facing the side of the bed they were leaning against so John got a good look at his face. Sleeping Sherlock always seemed so unlike Awake Sherlock. Like this, John could almost imagine being able to reach out and touch him without receiving an acerbic comment. Awake Sherlock, though, that was another species entirely.

Molly patted his thigh and gave him a sympathetic smile. “So what do you wanna do with him? He can stay here tonight. Or do you wanna take him home?”

“Can you guys help me take him downstairs? I think it’s best if we just go home.”

“Sure,” Greg said.

The three of them got up and John tapped Sherlock gently on the shoulder.

“Sherlock? Sherlock, I’m taking you home, okay?”

Sherlock stirred but didn’t open his eyes. He mumbled something and gave a deep sigh.

They were able to get him downstairs with no incidents. Molly hailed a cab and John and Greg laid him out on the back seat as gently as they could.

“221B Baker Street,” John told the cabbie, who nodded as John climbed into the passenger seat. “Thanks for your help,” he told Molly and Greg.

“Don’t worry about it, mate!” Greg said as the cab drove off.

When they got to 221B, John paid the cabbie and got out of the car, wondering how he was going to be able to carry Sherlock up the stairs. He opened the back seat door and leaned over Sherlock’s unconscious form. “Hey, Sherlock?”

Sherlock gave a little snore that John tried, unsuccessfully, not to find adorable.

John looked apologetically at the cabbie. “Sorry, mate. He’s a little pissed.”

The cabbie, a big man with a dark beard, said, “I’ve been there. Just make sure he doesn’t puke. I just had the carpets changed.”

John nodded and nudged Sherlock more forcefully, “C’mon, Sherlock, let’s go home.”

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open and he squinted at John. “John?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Can you get up?”

“Of course I can, John. I’m not pisshed,” Sherlock said as he drunkenly attempted to sit up. As he sat up, his hand automatically went to his mouth.

“Get him out, get him out!” the cabbie hollered.

John lifted Sherlock out of the seat and onto the sidewalk, Sherlock’s legs still seemingly unable to support his weight.

“You’re so shtrong, John,” Sherlock said, flailing his legs as if trying to stand on his own.

“Thank you,” John said, amused. He wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to get Sherlock up to their flat but he could at least get them both inside. “Hold on, okay?” John tightened his arms around Sherlock as he used his other hand to grab his keys from his pocket.

“You smell nice.” Sherlock started sniffing John’s neck and John almost dropped the keys.

“Uh, thanks?” John swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as his flatmate started nuzzling his neck. He had to try a few times to get the key in the lock and sighed in relief as the door swung open. He dragged Sherlock inside and closed the front door with his foot. “Listen, we need to go upstairs. Do you think we can do that?”

Sherlock didn’t seem to have heard him. He was gently nipping at John’s neck which was making John’s dick take notice. _Fuuuuck._ John moved his neck away from Sherlock’s face as far as he could while still supporting Sherlock’s weight.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?” John asked gently, trying to calm his racing heartbeat and interested dick.

Their eyes met and for a moment, John thought he glimpsed hurt in Sherlock’s eyes.

“I think I’m inebriated, John,” Sherlock announced.

John smiled, “Yes, I think so, too. Can you help me get you upstairs?”

They trudged up the stairs slowly and reached the sitting-room. John deposited Sherlock on the sofa and went to the kitchen to get him some water.

When he came back, Sherlock was on sitting on the sofa with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Sherlock was swallowing repeatedly, as if trying not to throw up.

“Drink some water,” John said, placing the glass on the coffee table. “Are you gonna throw up?” John sat next to him, his hand hovering a few inches from Sherlock. He wanted to rub his friend’s back to make him feel better but now it didn’t seem like such a good idea after how his body reacted to some harmless nuzzling.

“I’m fine, John,” Sherlock said. He chugged the water like a man dying of thirst then wiped his mouth with his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” John said as Sherlock stood up shakily. “I’ve never seen you drink like that before,” he commented mildly.

“Yes, well, things change,” Sherlock mumbled.

They made their way to Sherlock’s room, which was just down the hall from the kitchen and the sitting-room. Sherlock stopped when they were in front of the bathroom and turned to John. “I’m fine John,” he repeated, not meeting John’s eyes. “You should go to bed.” He went into the bathroom and closed the door.


End file.
